White Noise
by Broken Mirrors
Summary: PostGluhen ficlet. One shot. [Omi, Ken, Yohji, Aya]


**Fandom: **Weiss Kreuz

**Title: **White noise

**Characters: **Weiss

**Rating: ** M

**Notes: **Post-gluhen ficlet, it's not supposed to be pretty!

**White noise**

**Ken**

Blood ripples on the back of your hand. You can still feel the throbbing of the dying heart against your palm. The air tastes of metal.

The prison smells like chlorite, not urine and dirt like you thought. The sickening hollow within you pulses with silence, like there's nothing left. Sometimes memories flicker against your consciousness. Sometimes the flare of temper makes you forget that you don't kill anymore. 

Static, you can feel your body to return to the same pattern of motionless waiting. You wait for the breaking point. It has to come at some point. Nothing can stay still forever.

Your arm purple with the needle marks, there's nothing but white noise when the night comes. Not silence and deafening cries of your own voice. 

And sometimes in your dreams, in the white haze of faceless memories, you can see them.

Eyes of cornflower blue. So cold and distant. Your earth and ground but still so far away.

**Aya**

Your last memory was the gray sky, the stench of alcohol bitter urine on the cold asphalt where you lied waiting for the silence. Your fingers cold and slippery with sweat and the hot blood streaming down your arm.

You were ready to go. You already were gone.

The hospital room is too white. It hurts your eyes when you open them slowly. Your throat is dry and the sterilized smell of antiseptic clinging in the air, tasting on your tongue.

Your hazy consciousness clings to the little details around you. The almost nonexistent tightening of the tape that keeps the IV attached to your wrist. The weight of the bandage around your ribs. The cold touch of the metal from the side of the bed when you move your arm. The crimson mess of your hair, sweaty and dirty, clinging over your eyes. 

The scream is building within you, you can feel it rising. You need to get away.

The bed rattles when you try to move; your arms that are tied on the sides of the bed. Your body trashes violently from one side to the other. The heat of pain striking through you as you fall in the pulsing haze of anxious panic. 

Breathless, erratic pants falling from your cold lips, you stare at the nurse who comes in running. She doesn't bother trying to hit your vein with her needle but quickly changes the tube of your IV to the other bag of liquid that is hanging on the stand, a little ripples of blood spraying over her white shirt. You could have your name written on there.

If only you'd have a name.

She stands there to wait, ignoring your heated snarls. She doesn't understand you. You're both glad for that.

The world slowly slips into white noise of nothingness and her face is soon just one of the meaningless people gathered around your listless body lying on the hospital bed.

**Yohji**

Meaningless chattering. Slipping in and out of your life, creating the void around you. You throw smiles and little chuckles of sweet façade. The flowers of your warm exterior are the lifeline of your existence. 

Because you have nothing else.

White noise, the voiceless muttering of your memories, locked within.

Sometimes the smallest things bring out flickers of memories. When you lie awake after making her scream you name time after time only because you need to know it's your name and not just a meaningless word. Her smell around you, the taste of her on your tongue, you study her unmarred skin and wonder how it would feel like to lay your hand on her throat. Squeeze until she would not breath anymore.

Just because her eyes are dark brow, not the deep shade of indigo you wait them to be every morning when she opens her eyes again. 

**Omi**

Connections. Electric knowledge streaming through your mind. Control slipping away from your fingers. You have no hands to reach over and touch. Even if you knew how. 

You smile and hide away. A wise battle strategy, retreat and regroup. It has worked this far. Even if you have to regroup with the enemy. You are a survivor. You'll do what it takes.

The weight of his hand over your hip wakes you. He has nothing but you, that's why you trust in him. And still you can't sleep when he's too close.

You're not broken; you should not try to fix yourself. And still you feel like something is missing. Like a piece of something necessary keeps slipping farter and farter away from you.

You sleep your eyes open in the middle of the darkness, surrounded by white noise of meaningless memories. Nothing reaches you. Only the shallow echo of emotions of long gone.

You have won but the victory tastes nothing, only a responsibility you fulfilled.


End file.
